


Anchor Point

by Spocksandshoes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angry Kissing, Dysfunctional Relationships, Enemy Lovers, Injury, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, mild power dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 14:11:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6988183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spocksandshoes/pseuds/Spocksandshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how much they tore each other down, Hanzo always knew how to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchor Point

''Shit. Fuck.'' The arrow was lodged firmly through the joint of his robotic elbow. It jutted out at an odd angle through the curve of metal, and sparked odd tinges of what felt like pain in the nerves that were locked into his flesh-and-bone shoulder.  
The greenish lights along the forearm were flickering with the jolts; little pulses of feedback against too-raw nerves that were slowly driving him mad.

Gritting his teeth, McCree raised the chipped bottle with the clouded brown glass to his lips and took a long draught. The sludge inside scorched like paint thinner, and he coughed, flecks of the liquid catching on his beard. He was slumped on a wooden balcony in what he assumed was some sort of abandoned hotel room. It was the closest thing to shelter he could find, and all he knew was that the room inside was empty and it was safe here, for now.

''A'ight, c'mon you sumbitch.'' He grunted, grasping the shaft of the arrow and yanking. Metal scraped against metal and he shuddered bodily, the overload spiking sharp and intense in his shoulder.

His robotic hand dropped to his side, thumping awkwardly off the wooden floor. The Bounty Hunter slumped back against the wall, chest heaving like he'd just ran an marathon. God, he felt pathetic. The sweat dripped down his forehead as a shaking human hand moved to find that bottle again. Liquid courage was a fickle lady, but she was all he had.  
His hat was discarded somewhere nearby, lying dusty on a cracked floorboard. 

One stupid move out on the feild and the fuckin' arrow found the one place to pierce his arm and render it hilariously useless. They had lost too, overwhelmed by the enemies and overrun. It was a blur as to how he'd got here and hidden from the others but he was here now, teetering on the edge of too drunk and not drunk enough, and in considerable pain.

A quiet creak on the wooden balcony signalled Hanzo's arrival. Oh sure, it sounded like the building settling, but Jesse didn't even bother open his eyes, he knew the man too well to not know what it sounded like when he was near.  
Of course Shimada had known where to find him too. He always just seemed to know.

McCree kept his sweat-drenched eyes shut, let himself shudder and shake with the pain and pretended Hanzo wasn't even there.  
It was easier that way.

''You were too close to the Payload.'' Hanzo's voice was closer now, the deep rumble sounding almost quiet around the edges, as close as Hanzo would get to issuing an apology. 

McCree didn't bother to reply. If Hanzo wanted to explain why he put an arrow through his fucking arm, then by all means, but he still had an arrow in his damn arm.

Feet scraped softly on the floor nearby, and steady hands lifted his robotic arm. He could feel the tremors down the arrow shaft and into his arm as the man prodded and examined the protruding object.  
''Some shot you are. You missed m'head.'' McCree grunted, mainly for something else to do besides sitting in pained silence.

''I was not,'' Hanzo began, and there was a sharp twist, a mechanical pop and then blessed relief. ''Aiming for your head.''

McCree opened his eyes. Hanzo was holding the arrow up in front of him, examining the sizable dent in the middle and its chipped head. Dissatisfied, he dropped the arrow and it clattered down to rest beside McCree's leg.  
''Your team'll love you for that.'' McCree managed, examining his arm and trying his hardest to not look impressed. He moved his metal fingers, and his hand twitched feebly, a dead weight. It'd need work. But the pain had stopped. 

''My job was to stop you from completing your objective, and I did.'' Hanzo informed him, and McCree had no doubt that the man had told himself the same thing too. ''My team and their opinions do not concern me otherwise.''  
''Shit, just aim for the eyes like everyone else.'' Jesse mustered a sweaty grin, and the unimpressed look he got for it was enough to force a weary snort out of his throat. Hanzo wouldn't kill him, probably for the same reason that he had all that old guilt and shit from the whole throwndown with Genji. The man had killed enough people he cared about, and if it wasn't for the pain or the booze or the fairly shit situation, McCree would have felt a little flattered at being considered someone that Hanzo cared for.

''No.'' Hanzo confirmed slowly, like he was saying the most obvious thing in the world, to the most stupid person in the world.  
''I will not kill you.''

''M'flattered.'' McCree struggled to push himself into a higher sitting position. He couldn't help but sound nearly warm. But he was a quick-draw, and Peacekeeper slid from her holster sweet and easy.  
''I might not have the same qualms.''

Hanzo knelt slowly as the gun twitched in the direction of the floor. He was eye-level with McCree now, setting his bow on the floor and watching the cowboy with the resolute face of someone who found this little ritual somehow.. amusing? Hot? Maybe both?  
''You won't kill me either.'' Hanzo told him, and Jesse twitched the Poncho out of the way to raise his good arm. Peacekeepers' muzzle brushed against the curve of Hanzo's mouth, the drag of the metal parting his lips.

''Oh I know. But I could... we could both fuck each other up so bad... once of these days we just might...'' Jesse murmured in his scratchy drawl, and he was awarded by a hitch in Hanzo's breath. 

Aw, they were fucked up, but was it bad that he sort of liked it?

''C'mere and gimme a kiss.''

Peacekeeper was brushed aside, and McCree found a strong hand curling in the thick material of the poncho and yanking him forward.  
Hanzo's mouth pressed firmly against his own, and Jesse let his hand fall. The gun clattered to the floor, somewhere out of reach.  
At some point he tried to speak, and Hanzo was kissing the words from him, quiet and urgent, kissing him til the lack of oxygen became a pressing issue, but the slick slide of their mouths was almost too good to ignore.

''Why do you keep comin' back.'' He gasped, turning his head sharply and breaking the kiss. Hanzo's short breaths ghosted across his cheek, and he could hear the other man licking his lips, chasing the bad bourbon, the way he had dozens of times before.

''Why do you?'' 

The reply had him grunt in place of an answer, and he was blindly reaching to find his gun- out of instinct more than than anything else- when a hand caught his wrist and pressed it hard to the wall. The other hand in Mcree's poncho twisted, drawing a quiet, choked sound from the cowboy.

 _Oh._ Well okay, then.  
This kiss had more teeth to it, the desperate, ugly edge of two men trying to remember how this felt before all the bad shit got between them. McCree tasted blood, and he wasn't sure whose it was. Blood and cheap alcohol.

The minutes ticked on with nothing other the rustle of their clothes and the quiet wet sounds of their mouths to break the silence.  
When Hanzo drew back, his chest was heaving, and his eyes were flickering across McCree's face. The old indecision and doubt was still buried there under it all. Oh, he knew it well, and he'd see it in Hanzo's eyes the next time they ended up fumbling for each other in some other dark room or godforsaken cave.  
Jesse didn't feel any more dignified than he had the last time either, the way the breath rasped out of his throat and his mouth felt rubbed raw. 

''Next time I'll go for your human arm.'' Hanzo breathed, glancing out over the edge of the balcony, then back to McCree, still sprawled against the wall like an idiot.

''Mm. Sweet-talker.'' Jesse had to grin at the half-amused look that that earned him. He scratched through his beard wearily, too tired and strung-out on pain and alcohol to move.  
''Leaving so soon? I got a shitty abandoned porch and a few hours to kill..''

He gestured around the porch, and when he turned back to Hanzo, the man was gone. Somewhere below was the sound of feet striking dry earth. McCree sighed, a sigh that seemed to rattle up from his lungs, and tipped his head back to rest against the wall. 

''Til next time then.''

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to McHanzo hell, Population: Me.


End file.
